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I get asked about the name NOCD a lot. People might want to know how it’s pronounced, and they’re curious about our story. Every time, I’m excited to share a bit about what the name means—in fact, it’s an opportunity for me to talk about something everyone should know about OCD. First things first: it’s pronounced “No-CD.” And it actually means a couple things, both central to our mission: To restore hope for people with OCD through better awareness and treatment. The first meaning of our name is about awareness: Know OCD. Though we’ve come a long way, not enough people truly know what OCD is or what it’s like. How many times have you heard someone say “Don’t be so OCD about that,” or “I wish I had a little OCD. My car is a mess!” Things like that may seem innocent, but they trivialize the condition and keep most people with OCD—around 8 million in the US alone—from getting the help they need. The second meaning of NOCD is about treatment: No-CD. To go a bit deeper: Say “No” to the compulsive disorder. On one level, this is also related to knowing OCD—noto means “to know” in Latin. This inspired the name NOTO, the operations and technology infrastructure that powers NOCD the way an engine powers a vehicle. But this meaning goes even further. It has to do with how you can manage OCD symptoms—learning to resist compulsions. This is the foundation of exposure and response prevention (ERP) therapy, the most effective, evidence-based form of treatment for OCD. Learning how to resist compulsions with ERP changed my life, and it taught me how important it is to get treatment from a specialty-trained therapist who truly understands how OCD works. I’ll give you an example. When I was 20, my life was going according to plan. I was thriving on the field as a college quarterback, doing well in school, even winning awards—until OCD struck out of nowhere. I started having taboo intrusive thoughts, things that horrified me and went against my core values and beliefs. Desperate for help, I saw several different therapists—but no one diagnosed me with OCD. At one point, I was instructed to snap a rubber band against my wrist whenever I had an intrusive thought. It was supposed to stop the thoughts, but it only made my symptoms worse. Driven into severe depression, I had to put my entire life on pause. Once I started ERP with a therapist who understood OCD, I learned why: you can’t stop intrusive thoughts from occurring. Everyone has them—and the more you try to get rid of them, the worse they get. Anything you do to suppress them is actually a compulsion, whether it’s counting in your head, snapping a rubber band against your wrist, or using substances to drown the thoughts out. To get better, you have to learn to resist compulsions and accept uncertainty. OCD doesn’t get to decide how you live your life. How do you educate the people in your life about OCD? Whether friends, family, or strangers, I’d love to hear how you share your understanding and raise awareness about OCD.

Hi everyone, I’m Andrea and I am a member of the Intake Team here at NOCD. In junior high, I was known as the “aneurysm girl” because I was convinced any small headache meant I was dying. At just 12 years old, I read something that triggered my OCD, and from that moment on, my brain latched onto catastrophic health fears. Any strange sensation in my body felt like proof that something was seriously wrong. I constantly sought reassurance, avoided being alone, and felt trapped in an endless cycle of fear. Over time, my OCD shifted themes, but health anxiety was always there, lurking in the background. I turned to drinking to numb my mind, trying to escape the fear that never let up. Then, in 2016, everything spiraled. I was sitting at work, feeling completely fine, when suddenly my vision felt strange—something was “off.” My mind convinced me I was having a stroke. I called an ambulance, launching myself into one of the darkest periods of my life. I visited doctors multiple times a week, terrified I was dying, yet every test came back normal. The fear never loosened its grip. For years, I cycled in and out of therapy, desperately trying to find answers, but no one recognized what was really happening. I was always told I had anxiety or depression, but OCD was never mentioned. I was suicidal, believing I would never escape the torment of my mind. It wasn’t until 2022—after years of struggling, hitting rock bottom, and finally seeking specialized OCD treatment—that I got the right diagnosis. ERP therapy at NOCD was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it saved my life. Today, I’m 34, sober, and living a life I never thought was possible. Do I still have hard days? Absolutely. But I am no longer a prisoner to my fears. The thoughts still come, but they don’t control me anymore. They don’t dictate my every move. Life isn’t perfect, but it no longer knocks me off my feet. If you’re struggling with health OCD or somatic OCD, I see you. I know how terrifying and isolating it can be. But I also know that it can get better. If you have any questions about health & somatic OCD, ERP, and breaking the OCD cycle, I’d love to tell you what I’ve learned first hand. Drop your questions below, and I’ll answer all of them!